


Magnum Cynics

by EntrancedCat



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Harry Callahan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntrancedCat/pseuds/EntrancedCat
Summary: Daria Morgendorffer becomes a police detective. Her partner is one of the most famous cops of all time.





	1. Chapter 1

# MAGNUM CYNICS

Harry Callahan straightened his tie before entering the Longford California Police Department headquarters. He had wanted to avoid this meeting but had run out of excuses. He shook his head as the blast of air conditioning stirred his hair. He pressed his lips together tightly. 

_“Running away from the inevitable. Dad would have slapped me up and down if he’d seen this. He always thought I was the ballsiest of his boys. But now I can’t even bring myself to meet a new partner.”_

__“Hi yeh, Harry,” Madeleine the dispatcher called. “Hey, sorry about the other night. The guys convince you to unwind after work at Jaxx’s and the one girl you start talking to turns out to be more interested in me than any guy cop anywhere.”_ _

_“That’s okay,” Harry assured her. “She really just wanted to know what her brother would be going through in Academy training in San Francisco. I do trust you two had a good time.”_

__“Yeah,” Madeleine’s brown eyes got uncharacteristically dreamy. “You could say that. I’m even going out with Tammy and the guys again after my shift. You should join us.”_ _

__She nodded as Harry shook his head. Then she got a sly look and smirked up at him._ _

__“Oh, yeah, your new partner is falling asleep over orientation vids in Conference Room 2B. Why don’t you go and wake up your new partner?”_ _

__That sly look alone aroused Harry’s suspicions and the smirks the uniformed cops gave him made him even warier. He ran through permutations of possible partner configurations. He’d had black partners, a Hmong partner, a woman cop just as tough as him and far more by the book, and so on. The newly required sensitivity training he’d sat tightly-lipped through last year kicked in and brought up more possibilities._ _

_“Hmm, transgender? Lesbian-identified male? That one doesn’t seem likely but they said during that role-playing malarkey to expect everything and not to expect anything."_

____Still nothing quite prepared him for opening the door unannounced and seeing the young woman look up from frowning and yawning over a DVD training film he’d remembered sleeping through when he’d started in Longford. Instantly, she swung away from the computer, stood and approached him._ _ _ _

____At six-foot, four-inches it was a little hard for Harry to judge height and he wondered about minimum height requirements as he looked down at the woman whom he gauged at five-foot, three, an inch probably gained by the heavy black boots she sported._ _ _ _

_“And weight requirements,”_ Harry added as he took in a physique which he thought could charitably or not be described as scrawny. 

______The slight woman looked him up and down with unflinching green eyes flecked with black and gold, or so he thought looking through the thick round lenses she sported. With some residual male interest he noted her crisp pleated black skirt falling just above the knees. The high boots, the loose skirt, her green blazer over mustard tee all contrived to hide her frame. Trim, Harry judged, some might say ‘scrawny’ but she could conceivably conceal a strong if lean body in those clothes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Inspector Harry Callahan,” she opened with in a voice he would have thought mockingly dry and flat if he hadn’t the feeling it was natural to her. “I’m Inspector Daria Morgendorffer. I guess we’re destined to be partners.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Destined? That’s one way to put it if we want to be carried away by heedless enthusiasm.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He took the hand she proffered and was pleasantly surprised by its firm grip even as it disappeared into his own large hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Inspector, have they shown you around the office yet?” Harry asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, I think that was the rousing conclusion to this computer training on proper locker hygiene which I’ve been enjoying. Let’s have the grand tour if you’re offering, Inspector.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Reverting to what few old-world manners he had, Harry held the door for her. She grimaced a bit up at him; it may have even passed for a smile._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh wait,” Inspector Morgendorffer said as she turned back to the computer. “I need to press the COMPLETED button to put this machine out of its training misery or I’ll have to sit through that again.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“By the book, I like that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes, that’s just what I heard about you, Inspector Callahan.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“How about ‘Harry’ and ‘Daria’?” he asked as he ushered her back to the main room. “Inspector is too many syllables for me and I only hear it around here when someone wants to give me a crap job.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey, you didn’t call me ‘Dara’ or ‘Dee Dee’; therefore you have earned the right to call me ‘Daria’, Harry.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, Daria,” Harry said after he introduced the officers and office staff she had not already managed to meet. “Longford is an outdoorsy community and you might not be exactly dressed for it. Can you even run and fight in a skirt like that, Morgendorffer?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry looked down at his diminutive partner. “Aren’t you afraid of letting the bad guys see your unmentionables?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Unmentionables? You’re so cute when you’re all coy and embarrassed,” Daria answered deadpan._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Callahan, I’ll take your comments as genuine concern for your partner and not sexual harassment. Anyway, Harry, it’s sort of like asking what a Scotsman wears under his kilt. Maybe he’d show ye but ye’d be scarred for life.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry smirked and turned away, happy with the answer his new partner had shot back. As Daria cleared her throat he turned back to her thinking that she had a question about procedures or other dry police matter._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay,” she said looking him directly in the eyes. “Just so you don’t go investigating when I’m not ready for it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry’s eyes widened and the male members of the force either straightened up and paid more attention or modestly turned away--Daria took note of who had which reaction--as she lifted up her skirt. Male officers gasped and gawked; Madeleine snickered and gawked and Harry smiled as Daria made her nether-wear visible: black workout shorts, tight and short but of a more modest cut than most women wore on the gym floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______Faster than anyone could follow Daria whispered a kick past Harry’s nose. She stuck the landing taking a step back into a fighting stance and easily avoiding Harry’s quick attempt to grab her ankle._ _ _ _ _ _

______“All right, all right, Callahan, Morgendorffer, if you two are through waltzing on department time I’ve got an actual job for you.” Chief Mortsdron called making everyone in the office straighten up and pretend to get back to work, everyone except Daria and Harry who were regarding each other with amused respect._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, I am scarred for life,” Harry assured her as they gave their attention to their boss._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Inspectors, it’s dry as my last wife’s affections and much, much hotter out there,” Mortsdron told them. “The fire department boys, I mean firefighters, are hosing out a brush fire off the ditches on Hwy. 10 at the Marsden turnoff. Go direct traffic.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Without a word Chief Mortsdron dismissively waved aside Harry and Daria’s objections and suggestions to send a couple uniforms._ _ _ _ _ _

______More than one motorist paused longer than necessary that afternoon as they took in the sight of a slight woman balletically waving her arms in front if an unmarked police car with lights flashing in its grille. Daria had clipped her badge as prominently as possible to her jacket. Her smooth, flowing, hypnotic and almost robotic movements caught Harry’s eye as he came up from his post at the back of his car._ _ _ _ _ _

______“They’re done here,” he told her. “Let’s get out of the noon-day sun and get some coffee. I bet you drink coffee.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I could go for an ice latte,” Daria conceded._ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry turned to talk to a firefighter. As she directed a large blue van past a little girl staring out its back window caught her eye. Round face, pretty, wide dark eyes, brown skin, about eight or nine, all this Daria’s trained eye took in but what was particularly arresting was the look of absolute hopelessness on her face, or that’s how Daria interpreted the expression before the girl turned away quickly and the van drove on. She tried to catch the plate of the rapidly receding vehicle but was frustrated by the dirt obscuring the details._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Damn, out of state, probably Arizona. That’s all I can make out. My spidey-sense is tingling but there’s nothing to go on. Probably just a poor tourist girl needing to pee and her parents telling her it’s miles to go yet.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She gave her attention to the young firefighter enthusiastically talking to her partner._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thanks so much, officers. With you two here we freed up two guys to get that fire out quicker. God, I wish people’d be more careful with their cigarettes and matches. Be safe now.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He hopped on a truck and the crew drove off laughing and giving Daria and Harry thumbs up and ‘Okay’ gestures and waves._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why are firefighters always so damn cheerful?” Daria asked as Harry’s AC started washing over her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“‘Cause they’re the good guys,” Harry answered and kept his eyes on the road._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And we’re not? Should I rethink my line of work? Actually, more than one high-school classmate may have considered me not one of the good guys.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Same here, I regret now to admit. But… firefighters, they’re the good guys who just want to help people,” he continued. “As long as nobody gets hurt they’re happy as clams putting out fires; rescuing a ducky from a storm sewer or getting some kid’s kite out of a tree. We’re the good guys who want to beat up the bad guys and toss ‘em in jail. The world needs both but we’ve different mindsets.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Daria nodded and found herself opening up to Harry as they took a break over sandwiches and coffee. She found herself telling him why she double-majored at Raft in English literature and criminology._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So an off-hand remark about your sister’s favorite color got you on track to crack the case?” Harry sat back and pushed his empty plate away. “Good police work, Inspector, and before you were even a cop.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, my best friend’s slacker brother happened to mention that he remembered Quinn’s favorite color was coral. Then I remembered that Sandi Griffin’s favorite was aubergine. That got me thinking and digging. It was all hunches at first and nothing would have come of it but for Detective Klein on the Lawndale force who never liked the way the case came together. He took my hunches and did the real work. Quinn’s best friend Stacy Rowe pretty quickly confessed then that she assaulted Quinn in the dark and planted enough clues to frame Sandi. Then they let Sandi off, of course.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Daria spent a moment pointing out examples of ‘coral’ and ‘aubergine’ to a color-challenged Harry. She took a sip of her ice-latte and pursed her lips tightly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“They put Stacy in the state nut house after everybody, including Sandi, our mom and dad and even Quinn begged the court to be lenient on her. Everybody except me and Sandi’s mother. Me and someone I only know enough to dislike her were in agreement; we wanted Stacy gone for a long, hard time.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The state hospital’s no bed of roses either, Morgendorffer. First offense, assault? Maybe six years, out on good behavior in four or so. Mental commitment? They let you out when they think you’re ready. Could be forever.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Forever turned out to be about two years. Then Stacy convinced everyone that they got her meds right and she didn’t think she was really Quinn anymore—if she ever did—and they let her out. Under supervision but running around free. Needless to say, it made the collective Morgendorffers nervous but by then Quinn had married Sam, Detective Klein, and they moved to Schaumberg. She feels sorry for Stacy but wants to keep away from her too.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry chuckled drily. “Your sister married a cop? And you’re a cop? Careful, you’ll both start a cop dynasty. That can be good and bad.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Daria sucked her lips and looked thoughtful all the way back into Harry’s big Detroit automobile._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Code 10-54,” the radio crackled. “Possible dead body off Canyon Wood Trail milepost 343. Coroner on scene. Morgendorffer-Callahan investigate.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And so it begins,” Harry observed after he responded that they were on their way._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Harry,” Daria said shyly. “I’ve only known you a few hours but I think I’m happy we’re doing this together.”_ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspectors Morgendorffer and Callahan at the scene of a crime.

Chapter 2 - Magnum Cynics

The hard-packed dirt road was soon flanked by steep banks on either side likely making driving it in the rain a muddy mess Daria reflected. They met a uniformed deputy from the county sheriff’s department examining the road carefully. 

He got up from kneeling as they approached. The two men nodded to each other in a friendly way. Daria crouched to examine the faint marks the deputy was looking at.

“Daria, this is Chief Deputy Ted Snowbranch.” Harry introduced. “Ted, Inspector Daria Morgendorffer.”

The two looked up and nodded in meeting. Daria held her fist out to gauge size and cocked her head this way and that to catch the light from different angles.

“Footprints.” She concluded. “But on this hard packed clay it’s probably impossible to get a telling impression. Weird, I don’t see any sole marks, probably not a lugged sole but still, some impression should be left.”

Daria moved a couple steps up the road and couched again. She carefully pointed with her little finger. “Fibers.”

Harry and Deputy Snowbranch joined her, crouching on the opposite side of the prints.

“Good eyes, Daria.” Harry said. “Those glasses must act like microscopes.”

Daria stuck her tongue out at him as she carefully picked up with tweezers and bagged a couple minute black fibers. She handed them to an appreciative Snowbranch.

“I think I got it from here,” Ted answered. “You two go up and enjoy that part of the crime scene.”

Harry held out his hand as he took the lead up the steep hill but Daria did not need his help and quickly outpaced the much taller man. Her boots dug into the ground and held it better than his shoes. At the top they stepped onto a paved trail now mostly in the shadow of the woods in the afternoon sun. 

A couple uniformed officers were talking to a young man and woman, likely the hikers who called in the scene. They both looked a little rattled then relieved as the officers indicated that they could go.

“Hi ya, Daria, Harry,” one uniform greeted them. Daria recognized him as Joe Banks, one of the officers who turned away from her little demonstration of what’s-under-the-kilt that morning. 

“Joe,” they said simultaneously.

Banks got down to business, “They’re from Ohio, just visiting relatives in town. Up for a mid-morning walk and they hear a ruckus in the brush. Doesn’t scare ‘em. They take a look and scare off some critters feeding on…well, go see.”

Banks jerked his thumb over his shoulder and started to talk to his companion officer about a ball game from the night before. 

Harry gently and insistently pushed Daria behind him as he took the lead walking between the lines of police tape towards a buzz of activity they could hear just ahead.   
He missed Daria’s slight scowl then resigned shrug of understanding and acceptance. He tramped down the tall grass as an appreciative Daria followed. 

“Thanks,” Daria offered. 

“Ticks,” She shuddered. “About the only thing I’m scared of. Or will admit to anyway.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Rocky Mountain spotted fever, Lyme disease, Colorado tick fever.” 

“Don’t forget Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever and babesiosis. You know you’re not helping.”

Daria couldn’t see the half-smirk on Harry’s face which was gone the next moment as they stepped into the edge of the crime scene, a clearing with grass more domesticated and shorter than the growth between the trees. 

Harry and Daria stopped and took a minute to observe the scene. The ashes in a large concrete fire ring looked long cold; the clearing was obviously occasionally mowed and kept for camping. Daria judged that few used it, however. 

About half-dozen uniformed police, medical personnel and people in civilian gear were carefully milling around. The cops had their faces turned to the ground with plastic evidence bags at the ready. A wheeled stretcher was standing by the evident center of attention: a nude male figure spread out face up by the fire pit. His head appeared to be resting on a red and yellow tasseled pillow. 

The dried blood around the cut was smeared; Daria reflected probably from Banks’ ‘critters’ lapping at it.

“Hi yah, Harry,” A man of Harry’s age in a sharp suit straightened up from bending over the body. “Now that you’re here the mystery will be solved in no time at all with maybe, oh, only three or four more dead bodies thrown in.”

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “Just keeping you busy, Tony.”  
“Inspector Daria Morgendorffer, allow me to introduce you to Anthony Cartelli, county coroner, medical examiner, director of emergency services and God only knows what else he and his corrupt wop family could chisel out of the innocent taxpayers.”

Daria mumbled a greeting as she paid more attention to the body and surrounding area. 

Cartelli said to her, “I think he’s dead. In my expert opinion that is.”

“Do tell,” Daria nodded. 

She estimated the gaping curving smooth cut in the man’s left chest area to be nearly a foot long. The man looked to be an Asian and about five-eight and stocky. The weirdly beatific smile on his face almost caused her to shudder. 

“His heart?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Cartelli said. “Again in my humble opinion, his heart is gone. Gotta do a complete autopsy of course but we haven’t found it around here.”

The three brushed at flies around their faces as Cartelli continued, “Pretty recent, I’d think. The bugs have only started to lay eggs.”

Harry looked around, “Looks like the guys haven’t found much of anything.”

“That’s right, Inspector,” A uniformed officer came up to them. “Except for the grass pushed down by the perps and that pillow we haven’t found a darn thing.”

Daria crouched to look at the body then stood and slowly turned completely around. 

“He walked here on his own power.”

“Yeah,” Cartelli said. “I think so. And came here quite happily I would say. The toxicology reports should prove to be very interesting.”

An officer sifting carefully through the ashes muttered, “Hasn’t been used in weeks.”

Keeping out of the uniforms’ way Daria and Harry slowly walked in opposite spirals out from the body with their heads down. 

Daria swept her gaze from side to side slowly and then she wasn’t sure if a sudden glint was off her glasses or something in the grass stirring in a lazy wind. 

“Here,” she called and pointed. 

Harry continued his search as an officer stepped over to Daria with a plastic bag. Crouching Daria pointed with her little finger at the object glinting in the grass. The tiny, curved piece of glass had some white and black pattern on it; it pulled at Daria’s memory but was too tiny to place. 

The officer carefully placed it in an evidence bag and handed it to Daria. The sandwich baggie like thing reminded Daria that she was actually still hungry. A couple strands of dry grass were included but the glass was quite clean otherwise. The rounded white pattern on the clear glass with smaller black dots pulled stronger at Daria’s memory. 

“Ugh, I’ve seen this before,” Daria said to the cop. “I think I need more coffee to jog my memory.”

The cop nodded, “Yeah, of course, we’ll analyze it.” 

He put a marker down on the spot and said, “You’d think this place would get more kids out partying but it’s pretty unused.”

Daria and Harry’s paths intersected a minute later. They nodded in silent mutual agreement to be gone. Harry exchanged a couple more barbs with Cartelli and they climbed back down to Deputy Snowbranch.

“How’s the site?” Snowbranch asked as Harry and Daria passed him on their way to the car. “I haven’t been up there yet. Still looking at the prints and the little trail they left. I just might truck up to those abandoned mines too. It’s a couple miles but just off this old road.”

“A work of art. Whoever did it was very good at it.” Harry declared. “The object d’art is baking in the sun. Better see it before that dago Cartelli takes the body for autopsy.”

Snowbranch shook his head. “You and Cartelli. You know you love each other. At least you know not to call me a prairie-n***** or anything. Remember, I got claim to Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse for kin.”

“You’re Lakota?” Daria asked. “My best friend is one-quarter Lakota but she never did anything about it—except threaten to scalp me—until she started looking up distant relatives in some tiny reservation in the middle of nowhere Minnesota.”

“Probably Lower Sioux rez or Upper Sioux. I got cousins at both spots myself.”

Daria looked closely at the lean, chiseled deputy. “You know, I bet you and Jane would enjoy a little pow-wow together.”

Snowbranch smiled appreciatively and nodded. 

“I might just like that,” he affirmed.

“It’s hot,” Daria pronounced as she and Harry prepared to leave. She reached into the back seat of Harry’s car and took something long and red out of her ice-filled cooler.

“Homemade cherry ice-pop?” She offered Harry. “Real juice. I got more.”

Harry eyed it as Daria stuck the round red frosty treat into her mouth.

“No thanks, I’m more of a lemon-lime man myself.”

She gave him a “suit-yourself” shrug and proceeded to paint her tongue a brighter red.


	3. Clues

Chapter 3 - Clues

Dispatcher Madeleine looked up at Harry then jerked her thumb in the direction of Harry’s little office cubicle. “Your partner’s in her cube web surfing or something.”

As Harry approached Daria glanced up from the monitor and blew a tremendous bubble. Pop.

“I’m accessing Law Enforcement Officers Gone Wild but they didn’t deliver as promised. You’re not shown, Harry.”

“Snowbranch on there? Dancing shirtless? I saw you sizing up that hunk of bison.”

“I thought,” Harry added. “That bubblegum was forbidden in the office for reasons of hygiene and general deportment and image maintenance.”

Daria slid a pad of paper across her desk to Harry.

“You’re free to write me up. You can give it to the boss man after he’s finished enjoying the two pieces of Bazooka I gave him.”

Harry nodded and sat down to study the display on her screen.

“That’s cheery. Looks like votive candles but I daresay I won’t see those in Saint Boniface anytime soon.”

Daria enlarged an image of a tall tumbler like clear glass object full of multi-colored layered wax. Printed on the surface was a robed skeleton, its bony hands holding a globe. She printed off screenshots

Next to the monitor she held up a picture of the shard she had found at the crime scene.

“Pretty close,” Harry granted.

“Yep, if it’s not an exact match, it’s close enough. This is a candle used in veneration of Santa Muerte.” She tapped the screen. ”And I daresay we found something similar near the dearly departed.”

“Santa Muerte? ‘Saint Death’, right? Forgive this lapsed Irish Catholic boy but I don’t remember that blessed one. Canonized recently?”

“Yeah, ‘Saint Death’ more or less. More like syncretized recently. Like voodoo, a mix of Catholicism and for want of a better term a native religion; but this is from Mexico not Haiti. Historians don’t know when it first started but she,” Another tap on the screen. “Got really popular starting around 2001.”

Daria rapped the screen again and added, “Still not much to go on.”

As Harry nodded and was about to comment they both heard Chief Mortsdron call for volunteers for traffic control and then speculate that it would be a good bonding time for the new Inspector team.

“In the mood to visit a bodega or two and check out their candles, Morgendorffer?”

“Sure, but if you have a burrito I’m not riding back with you.”

“I’m more of an enchilada fancier.”

The two made their way out of the office. Daria waved her papers at her chief as he was about to open his mouth. 

“Big lead, big lead on the trail slaying, might take all day.” 

They climbed into Harry’s expansive old Detroit iron.

“Daria, if you want to drive me around sometime you need to drive something bigger than that little Jap roller skate.”

“Hey, the Yaris is a perfectly good vehicle for someone who isn’t freakishly tall with arms dangling like an ape.”

Daria reached into her cooler and offered Harry a treat. “I made lemon-lime just for you. Well, Mortsdron got one too.”

“Both hands on the wheel is my motto. But I’ll take one after my enchilada thank you all the same. So does this cult of the blessed pseudo-saint practice ritual sacrifice? From what I remember of the history the nuns managed to get into me the ancient Mexicans were rather known for that.”

“The dominant group anyway,” Daria sucked on a cold cherry pop. “The Aztecs. That’s one of the reasons they think the Spanish with so few soldiers were able to conquer them; the surrounding tribes got sick, sad and tired of watching their people get their hearts cut out on step pyramids.”

“Hearts cut out, that seems to fit something we’ve seen recently.”

“Yeah,” Daria continued. “Santa Muerte doesn’t demand human sacrifices although there have been murders in Mexico possibly linked to worshippers. Just stuff like tobacco, money, candles and reverence. There’s sort of a lay clergy but nothing too organized. Or so the revered Internet told me in the last half-hour.”

“You never know when somebody wants to innovate,” Harry mused as he parked in front of a colorful bodega. 

“Or get nostalgic for the good old days.” Daria followed him in.

A moment later Daria surprised him by addressing the proprietor in fluent Spanish as they displayed their badges. They politely declined the offers of cigarettes, fruit and candy which the man was apparently used to offering law enforcement who unexpectedly showed up in his shop. 

A few moments after that Daria attempted her best Spanish to calm the suddenly agitated shopkeeper after she showed him a couple printouts of Santa Muerte candles and asked if he knew anyone who bought any recently from his bodega. 

“I take it not a devotee of Miss Saint Death?” Harry asked after the man crossed himself a second time. 

Daria opened her mouth to answer but was superseded by a man who had just entered the store.

“Mr. Sanchez is a steadfast Catholic, Inspector Callahan.” the man said in a soft lilt. “I can vouch he has no truck with the things you have shown him.”

As shopkeeper Sanchez smiled at the newcomer Daria turned to look. A man not much taller than she nodded to her as he removed a wide-brimmed, low-crowned black hat. She admired his long black robe--cassock--she thought it was called which almost swept the floor over his plain black boots.

“Father O’Shaughnessy,” Harry said and waved at Daria. “My new partner, Inspector Daria Morgendorffer.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Morgendorffer. And you partner with our Harry Callahan then? If you don’t mind I’ll be lighting a candle tonight for your safety.”

“Er, thank you Father. Like my mother, the lawyer, taught me, cops and lawyers learn to take all the luck, uh, help they can get.”

“If you don’t mind my interest, Inspector, ‘Daria’ is a lovely name, Persian I believe off ‘Darius’ of course. And ‘Morgendorffer’, a grand German appellation. If you don’t mind further, as you probably know there is no synagogue in Longford. I can introduce you to some friends who are of the Reformed tradition. They make the occasional trip to shul in a nearby community.”

“Er, thank you Father. My family was non-practicing and after lots of intermarriages I barely have anything Jewish to me except the name.”

The priest engaged shopkeeper Sanchez in Spanish about the pictures Daria had shown him. Daria resumed her conversation occasionally translating for Harry. 

Calmed by Father O’Shaughnessy’s presence the man assured them that he would never carry any Santa Muerte paraphernalia in his establishment despite being solicited by traveling salespeople. Such items, as Daria had surmised, were commonly available in larger communities or over the Internet and mail-order. They were made by any number of small manufacturers with nothing distinctive about the candles Daria had shown him.

Father O’Shaughnessy made a few purchases and he, Daria and Harry went out into the bright California sun. 

“Well, my thanks again, Father,” Daria said in English as the priest paused before his yellow Yaris. 

“Father O’Shaughnessy, I’d like to practice my Spanish with you sometime. I dare say my textbook Spanish is a bit better than yours but you know a lot more idioms and slang than me. That’s usually more useful in talking to people as a cop. And I like your taste in cars.”

“It would be my great pleasure to meet with you, Inspector. Uh, if you don’t mind me asking into police affairs, I’m guessing those lovely pictures are related to that poor man who was found dead on the trail.”

“If you don’t mind me calling you Father Brown,” Daria began and she was happy to note both O’Shaughnessy and Harry chuckled at that. 

“Father, you know we can’t discuss any ongoing investigation and I can’t say this is related to the dead guy the Longford Tribune reported on.”

As the priest nodded she continued, “Father, I need to ask: I know there are things you can’t tell either, but in general is there interest in Santa Muerte around here?”

Before replying Father O’Shaughnessy sucked his cheeks pensively, “I happily can say no one in my flock is a devotee that I know of, thank the blessed Saint Boniface. But the Devil’s work is seductive and subtle and he has all the time until Eternity. I know that this cursed travesty has missionaries of sorts up from Mexico or the larger cities on the coast. We’re also on the edge of drug trade routes, as you undoubtedly know, and many of those couriers and low level soldiers believe in hedging their bets both with the Church and darker forces.” 

He flicked a watch out from under a long sleeve. “Now I must be going, Inspectors. Lonely retirees are expecting me in the old folks home.”

He tipped his hat at Daria and bid farewell in Spanish, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Inspector Morgendorffer.”

“Harry, perhaps we could see you in Saint Boniface’s again sometime soon?”

“Maybe, Father,” Harry responded politely but drily. 

“Maybe,” Father O’Shaughnessy said without much conviction or accusation as he got into his car and drove off.

Daria was about to propose they head to the office when Harry produced some melodious tones in a foreign language Daria did not recognize. Daria listened in surprise. 

“Should I feel flattered or do I need to write you up? Or is it just your Irish side showing off.”

“I asked in my best Cantonese if the fair lady would do me the honor of dining in my humble abode this evening. After we finish our fascinating shifts of course.”

Daria surprised him by dropping a credible, non-ironic curtsey as she accepted. 

“Cantonese, eh?” Daria commented. “Your Cantonese and my Spanish makes a killer combo anywhere but I bet you don’t get a many chances to use it in Long…”

She trailed off as she and Harry both had their cop intuitions triggered by a car parked in front of the bank across the street. The sedan was not a late or especially early model, a nondescript white color on a nondescript American midsize. What caught their eyes was the front end parked a bit over the yellow near the corner with the front end sticking out a bit too far into the street. 

Daria tossed the printouts into the car and met Harry’s eyes. She could tell he was thinking the same thing. 

_“Yipe, are we developing that intuition I’ve heard about? Partners can almost read each other’s minds? Normally, I’d just call one of the traffic enforcement gals to write the lucky owner a ticket. We’ve got better things to do back at the office like look at that autopsy and toxicology report Cartelli promised us.”_

Harry undid a button on his blazer. Daria checked her own access to her service weapon. They nodded at each other and slowly jaywalked across the street. 

Harry hesitated a moment bringing a curious glance from Daria who quickly put her eyes back on the car and bank.

_“She’s still kind of a rookie,” Harry thought._

__

__

__

“Daria, I got this.” Harry muttered and gently pushed her behind him.

“Harry? What the fuck?” Daria demanded softly. She saw no reason for his apparent attempt to shield her. 

She took a couple long steps and quickly come up at his side again as they paused to assess the situation. Daria took a couple steps to one side.

“No get-away driver? A little unusual if it’s a bank job.” She told herself. “Still, bank robbers these days aren’t the brightest. You get maybe five grand and a dye-bomb in a premade package. Then ten years in the Big House.”

“Police! Drop your weapon. Hands up.” They both shouted a moment later as they drew their pistols. A man in white overalls came running out of the bank with a pillowcase in one hand and a large gun in the other. 

Daria trained her Glock 9mm on his center of mass as two things surprised at least three people at once. Behind Daria and Harry two loud gunshots sounded in quick succession. In front of them the startled bank heist artist tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and face planted. 

Harry made a decision. _“She’s got a good bead on him.”_

“Yours, Daria.” He indicated the bank robber as he whirled around to inspect the source of the gunshots. 

“Police. Drop your weapon now.” Daria stepped closer to better see the man lying unmoving on the sidewalk. 

“Little dumb bitch cop,” the robber said coldly. “How can I drop it if I’m laying on top of the damn thing?”

“Take your hand off the gun and don’t move. Stay down.” Daria commanded. 

She noted he was bleeding from a nasty nose scrape. He had dropped the loot but was indeed lying on top of his right hand still holding his gun. She was thankful it was an awkward uncomfortable looking position with his gun pointed away from her. Still he was holding it firmly with finger on the trigger.

“Take your hand off the gun and don’t move. Stay down.” Daria commanded again. 

Sirens sounded from up the street. 

In Police Academy they taught recruits to give simple commands and as importantly in insistent clear deep voices. Still Daria had never quite gotten more emotive than the monotone which had won her friends in high school and beyond. Her instructor had to admit that Daria’s dry voice had a chilling effect all its own.

“Let go of the gun.” She said again, ignoring the sounds of two types of guns firing behind her.

_“Dammit. If I get a better angle on him down like that then he’s got a better angle on me. Asshole, it’s over, just let go of your gun. Dammit, I know that ‘I’m-not-going-back-to-prison’ look."_

Daria repeated her command again to no effect. 

_“Damn, he’s rolling his eyes around, taking it all in as his nose drips blood on his white painter overalls. He wants to roll over fast and shoot.”_

The bank robber made his move; feinting a jerk forward then rolling back quickly. Daria’s Glock reported twice causing the robber to twitch once before the body completed its roll onto its back. 

At last he let go of his gun. Blood colored the white overalls from the two neatly placed wounds. 

She swung her gun over to cover a popping sound and saw she had targeted the dye bomb finally exploding in the loot bag. 

Daria’s breathing returned to normal as she cautiously approached the body, gun still trained. As a patrol car rolled up she breathed a sigh of relief. She quickly held out her badge. Longford was a small department but she was new and had no desire to be thrown to the pavement or worse in the heat of the moment.

“You okay, Inspector Morgendorffer?” The first cop out asked.

“I’m okay. He’s gone. Look, my partner’s got shots fired across the street. Let’s back him up.”

“Well, well, bad guys’ zero, Morgendorffer’s one.” 

Daria turned to find Harry hustling along a short, rail-thin blonde woman with severe features. She was futilely fighting her handcuffs and Harry’s hand on her arm.

“Holy Cow!” One of the uniforms exclaimed. “A perp went up against Harry and he’s--she’s--still alive!”

“Off day,” Harry said off-handedly. “And her lucky day. Maybe ours too, Daria. Look.”

Harry turned the flinching woman and Daria saw pinned to her jacket several colorful buttons. One faux-ivory broach boasted the figure of a skeletal robed figure holding a scythe.

Daria took in the unexpected clue; looked at the bank-robber’s body; checked her weapon for safety then walked to a potted plant at the bank’s entrance and threw up. 

“Oh, Daria,” Harry said as he passed his arrest to a uniform. “Just a second, I’ll get you one of your cherry freeze pops to wash that taste out of your mouth. Or maybe lemon-lime?”


	4. Chapter Four - Magnum Cynics

Chapter 4 - Magnum Cynics

 

Chief Mortsdron called to Daria and Harry as they made their way to their cubicles. “Hey, Daria, good work on thwarting a bank robbery and saving the taxpayers of California the cost of housing another inmate. Hey Harry, good work on bagging an armed perp without actually killing him, uh, her, for a change.”

“Do all cops get that jaded after a few years?”Daria wondered. “I don’t feel sick anymore but, My God, I just killed a man. I might need to suck down some of that good vodka Dad gave me. Nope, no, gotta not go that route too easily. Well, maybe a sip.”

Harry was about to reply to Mortsdron when the Chief stuck his head through the door.

“By the way Callahan, Morgendorffer. S.O.P. You’re both on paid administrative leave while we investigate the discharges of your service weapons.”

As Daria boxed up tchotchkes which she wanted to take home for the duration, she wondered why Harry just sat at his computer casually surfing basketball fan sites. She unslung her weapon and carefully took out the magazine.

A moment later Chief Mortsdron called from the hall not bothering to even stick his head in the door, “Morgendorffer, Callahan, investigation's over; you’re both cleared. Any new leads on the trail killing? Oh, and get a report about those weapon discharges on my desk in no more than a month or two.”

“Damn,” Harry muttered softly. “I was thinking of heading into the city to catch a couple games.”

Daria redid her weapon carry as she reminded herself to clean her Glock later. She was about to ask it everything in Longford were so casual when Harry answered his phone.

“Cartelli? Yeah, you done with that autopsy or distracted by more graft opportunities again? Really? You want to deliver the news to us in person? Well, in honor of that visit I’ll have my partner actually clean up her pigpen of a cubicle.”

Daria resisted sticking her tongue out at Harry as she unboxed and rearranged her doo-dads on her desk.She got to work on the weapon discharge report. Cartelli breezed in a half-hour later dressed in a high quality suit and touting a large folder. 

“Put a dime on the ‘Nicks, Harry,” he advised while shoulder-surfing Harry. “Let me get to the point; I have an appointment to detail my car later.”

He opened the folder and read, “Blah blah blah, adult Asian male, height 5’ 7’’ weight 140 pounds blah blah and blah with about three pounds missing due the absence of his heart and portions of attending large blood vessels. Clean wound between the third and fourth ribs. More blah and blah. Wound likely caused by…”

Cartelli paused dramatically and handed a plastic baggie to Daria. She looked carefully at a small shiny black sliver and frowned before handing it to Harry. 

“An obsidian knife,” Cartelli smiled at Harry. “That’s a knife made of volcanic glass, Harry. That little shard was found in the body cavity. We almost missed it.”

“I know what obsidian is.” Harry muttered. 

“Volcanic glass. Sharper than surgical steel but brittle,” Daria said quietly as she took the bag from Harry and peered at the contents again. “Used in pre-Columbian Mesoamerican ritual human sacrifice.”

“I’ll let you explain all that to our bog-trotter friend later,” Cartelli nodded and continued. “Okay, we humble medical people cannot make a determination of ritual anything but moving on to the contents of the stomach and the ever-popular toxicology report.”

He shuffled a few papers, “Blahdy blah. Contents of stomach and intestine primarily partially digested mushrooms of the psilocybe cubensis species. Some were in condition fresh and good enough to have my mycologist buddy at the U make a positive identification.”

“Mushrooms?” Harry sat up straight, assuming an alert look Daria had rarely seen on him at the office. “Psilocybin? Who the hell does organic anymore with all the popular designer drugs out there to screw up your mind?”

Cartelli put down the report. “We didn’t need an ID on stomach contents really. His blood was full of psychoactive compounds derived from the sprightly ‘shrooms. Also in high concentration were opiates, almost certainly from the analgesic opium poppy herself.” 

“He probably died high, happy and painless,” Daria mused. “Probably had no idea what was going on.”

“Well, we in the medical field cannot make such conclusions, needless to say,” Cartelli said. “But the concentrations were high enough to get the three of us off. Speaking colloquially of course.” 

“That’s about it,” Cartelli concluded. “We’re putting the time of death at around eight hours before the body was found.” 

He mock bowed to Daria. “Always a pleasure, Inspector Morgendorffer. Harry, I’ll leave you to your vocabulary words for the day.”

Turning to Daria, Harry ignored him as Cartelli left. “Assuming Cartelli and company are competent it’s still not much to go on. That pillow provided for the deceased’s comfort was homemade with good quality stuff but nothing you couldn’t buy for your sewing circle, Daria.”

“My sewing circle almost exclusively uses black cloth emblazoned with skulls and crossbones. Hmm, I have to do more research but if I remember right the Aztecs fed their ritual victims psychedelic plants before the slaughter. Kept the squirming, screaming and fighting down that way, I imagine. There’s been a resurgence of Aztec pride in Mexico but nobody’s been calling for that drastic a return to the good old days. And they didn’t have access to opiates in the good old days.”

Harry consulted a couple other reports, “Well, there’s that good old Mexican Brown heroin now, you know. According to Snowbranch those fibers you scoped were high-quality black-dyed felt, origin unknown. Ted followed up on his hunch and stopped by those abandoned mines. Nothing out of place but beer cans and fire pits, cheap beer swill one might add, evidence only of typical high school hanging out.”

Daria popped a couple pieces of bubblegum in her mouth and returned to the report Cartelli had interrupted. Harry announced he was going to take some target practice. 

“Oh, Callahan,” Daria called as he was almost out the door. “What time will the food be ready?”

DM HC DM HC DM HC DM HC DM HC

Harry almost broke into a wide smile as he opened his apartment door to find his slightly-built partner looking up at him. Daria smiled wryly as she entered. 

“What’s this I smell? Lasagna?” She chuckled.

“What? An Irish lad can’t make an Italian immigrant dish? Tell the truth it’s about the only thing I do make from scratch.”

Daria waved a hand and reassured him, “That’s not it. It’s a short, boring story. I’ll tell you sometime when you ferret out my other closely kept secrets. I welcome the prospects of a cheese burn from good lasagna.”

She accepted a couple fingers of Jameson on ice from him and took a small sip. Harry did crack a smile as she closed her eyes in appreciation. 

“Good, I thought you’d need a stiff one after today. Daria, look, I’m all old and jaded and callous as they say but I know it’s tough on any cop shooting someone to death. If you want to talk about it.”

Daria sipped again as she took the seat he offered in his tiny living room. 

“‘Shooting someone to death’, you know, Harry, a lot of people wouldn’t put it that way, at least not for openers. But, I like it from you. You know, maybe it’s scary, maybe I’m a sick, sad twisted little crueller, but I think I’m okay, for now. But...”

“Harry,” Daria bit her lip and sipped her whiskey. “Look, at the bank today. Why did you shove me behind you?”

Harry rubbed the back of his head. “You’re just new here. You don’t know the lay of the land.”

“Harry,” Daria pressed more insistently. “What lay of the land? It’s an empty public sidewalk with another spotless, cloudless California day beating down on it.”

“I, well, you know, my first duty is to my partner.”

“Callahan,” Daria’s volume slightly up. “Our first duty is to the public’s safety; law and order and all that.”

She mused, “You were afraid I’d get hurt? Yeah? Look, I’m a police inspector, a cop just like you. Dammit, Harry, I’m faster and stronger than I look. I’ve taken down drug-crazies your size. True, those were my first--and God Willing last--fatal shots but I can take care of myself, and you. That’s what partners do; together. Partners.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to continue so she stood up and paced as Harry found something to do in the kitchen. She followed him.

“Callahan, I know your reputation for burning through partners. They don’t last long when they ride besides you or so other cops say. I’ve seen and heard it all: the rumors and the official reports.” 

“And I don’t believe in luck or curse or whatever you convinced yourself about your partners. Harry, people from high school might not believe me but I don’t want to work alone. I could, you could too, work somewhere where we could be a lone officer on patrol. But I need a partner; I bet you do too somewhere deep down. I think it’s better for us and the public. And, God, now fill up my glass again before I sing the national anthem or something.”

“I always grant a lady’s request for a stiff drink.”

The two fell silent. Daria looked out his kitchen window. Harry pretended to check the oven.

They went into the living area again. Daria felt restless and roamed his living room pausing before a few photos framed on the wall. In one a younger Harry and a blonde woman about his age both gazed happily out at the camera, Harry stretching a smile bigger and more sincere than any she could remember on him on the job. Another pic catching her eye was of an older Harry and an Asian woman. Daria noted that while the woman smiled widely out to the viewer Harry was looking down at her. 

“He’s smiling,” Daria thought. “He’s happy to be with her but it’s a smile like he can’t believe his luck and he’s worried it will all go away.”

“I should probably put those away,” Harry said. “At least when I host any of my dozens of visitors a week.” 

“My wife, Carol,” He straightened the older picture slightly. “Hit by a drunk driver in a crosswalk. She lingered two days before…” 

“Chen Hua Wang,” He touched the second frame. “Spring Flowers Wang, I guess. Everybody called her ‘Sunny’. My fiancée. You probably heard of the Cornucopia Killers? Those two a******* who were killing grad students around the holidays each year. She was in her tiny little grad school mathematics office, their second victim, before we could establish a pattern.”

Daria’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m, I’m sorry, Harry. Harry, don’t take these down, ever. It’s painful for you but they deserve to be remembered.”

The oven dinged and Harry managed a tight smile. 

“Let me pull that out and let it sit for ten minutes. Cartelli actually gave me some good advice on wine, his family owns the distributorship around here, let’s get started on a glass while we wait. Unless you’ve had enough sauce for the day in that tiny tough little frame of yours? I got some gassy wop mineral water too.”

Daria poured the rest of her whisky into her mouth. “One glass of wine slowly over dinner, Harry. I’ll expect you to hold me to that. Then I’ll take your San Pellegrino.”

DM HC DM HC DM HC DM HC DM HC

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Daria blushed after they finished dessert. “It’s against department policy.”

She took his hand and let Harry pull her to the couch. She snuggled down into his lap with one arm around his neck. Daria put her head on his shoulder. Her tummy was warm and full with Harry’s wine and fare.

“Yeah, I really get the sense you’re a stickler for following policy,” Harry said.

He took a pad of paper forms from an end table drawer and held it out to her.

“You’re free to write me up.”

When she shook her head and buried her face into his chest he tossed it aside. 

“Daria, it’s enough for me just to hold you.”

“It’s enough for me just to hold you. But Harry...”

Daria sat up. She looked directly into his curious eyes as she slapped him across the face. 

“I’m still seriously pissed at you for that bank job crap today.”

She watched surprise and anger then something like sheepishness flash across his face. He brought his hand up then dropped it as she appeared to wind up for another strike. 

“Yeah, just don’t. Not. Ever. Again.” She draped her arm around his neck again and settled down into his embrace. 

Daria smiled up at him shyly. She reached under her skirt and seconds later folded something carefully on the end table.

“Don’t get any ideas, Callahan, I just need to make myself more comfortable after a long day. But.”

She stretched up to meet his lips. One hand carefully over her skirt Harry gathered her up for more kisses. 

A few minutes later they both succumbed to the long day and fell asleep in each other’s arms on Harry’s old comfortable couch.

Harry’s old style landline ring woke them up. With one long arm over Daria’s head Harry fumbled for it.

“Callahan here. Mortsdron? Chief? What?”

Harry stretched causing Daria to wrap her arms around him again. Daria heard their boss as Harry put the call on speaker. 

“Callahan, get your partner and get down here. That broad you nabbed yesterday is detoxed. She wants to talk and to you two only. Her mouthpiece is headed down here too.”

Harry and Daria sat up. The darkness outside the windows and the red 3:43 reading on Harry’s cheap clock radio indicated that indeed Harry and Daria had napped into the following day. 

“Sure, boss. Inspector Morgendorffer and I were actually just discussing the trail killer and possible connections to her.”

“Well, tell Morgendorffer to put her panties back on and you two get down here.”

Daria’s eyes got wide, “Boss, I’ve a mind to report you to HR.”

“I am HR, Morgendofffer,” Mortsdron chuckled and hung up.

“Dammit,” Daria muttered. 

She reached over to the end table and discreetly donned her unmentionables.


End file.
